A Rivaini Talisman
by Four Syllables
Summary: Two women pretending not to be in love, what's a Rivaini fertility talisman to do? Why, give one dreams of happily ever after and turn the other into a man, of course! Well, at least where it counts. F!Hawke/Isabela. WARNING: futa.
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer:** Not making a profit, just having fun.

Written for a prompt in the Dragon Age kink meme in LJ. As stated in the summary, this story will have futa. To those who are unfamiliar with the term, it means, simply put: a chick with a dick. In this case, it's female!Hawke. So, female!Hawke will turn into futa!Hawke later on. If that rubs you the wrong way, then the back button is right there, my friend. This story also borders on crack, so it probably shouldn't be taken seriously. I apologize if I've offended, but you've been warned!

Don't know if it matters, but Hawke here is a witty/charming DPS warrior. She is also the default Hawke, because I think Marian is gorgeous and I saw no need to change a single thing about her.

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

**A Rivaini Talisman  
>Part 1<strong>

**.  
><strong>

_The Hanged Man hasn't changed a bit,_ Isabela thought as she leisurely sipped the terrible whiskey that made her stomach burn with nostalgia and nausea.

She watched Edwina serve drinks to two of the more vocal patrons. The two men were currently engaged in a drunken, heated debate about the Champion of Kirkwall, a bed of dragon bones and the varying uses of the Arishok's skull. At another table, Norah hissed at a man to buy another drink or leave, to which he lewdly responded by asking her to bed.

"Not if you were the last man in the Free Marches," Norah snarled before whipping around and stomping back to the bar.

Isabela raised her mug to her lips to hide a smile as Norah passed by and went on about the woes of being a waitress, particularly about men who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Later, should he harass Norah again, Isabela would offer to break his teeth, but for now she simply basked in the atmosphere, horrible stench, grating noise and all.

_The Hanged Man hasn't changed a bit, _she thought again, fondly this time.

The man at the adjacent counter was leering at her, trying to catch her eye while he barked for another drink. She spared him a quick glance, which he didn't notice because he was staring at her tits now. He was an unfamiliar face, but by the looks of him, she figured he was Fereldan - probably one of Hubert's boys - and here he was, pissing away what little coin he had on swill and women. Another mug or two of Corff's finest, she wagered, and the poor sod would start believing he had balls of steel and make a grab for her ass.

Isabela lamented that she might have to break a few fingers tonight and that, unfortunately, just might lead to a bar fight. Aveline wouldn't look too kindly on her starting a brawl not a month after she had gotten back. She grinned and down the rest of her whiskey, thinking that, maybe this time, she could get the fight to spill all the way to Hightown.

She frowned suddenly, then looked at the man again. He wasn't bad-looking, certainly not below her standards. Three years ago, she wouldn't have dismissed him outright, at least not before she decided whether or not she liked having his hands on her ass. It was only fair, after all.

There were other men looking at her. She knew most of them, had probably slept with most of them. She should be in her room right now, in fact, fucking one of them, or maybe two of them, or three, if her she was in the mood. But she wasn't.

Isabela was utterly, dreadfully uninterested in sex. Worse yet, she had not fucked anyone since she arrived in Kirkwall. The world had to be ending. She blamed these people, of course, because it couldn't possibly be her fault that none of them had black hair that would feel like silk between her fingers or blue eyes that would make her think of being out in the open sea.

It wasn't her fault none of them were Hawke.

"Balls," she spat, then promptly signaled Corff for another drink.

She tried to think of the Hawke's lean, lithe body - the long legs, the firm ass, the perky breasts - and it worked, for about a minute, and then she would think about other things, like Hawke laughing at her jokes, Hawke pouting after losing a round of diamondback and looking even more adorable than Merrill, Hawke growling at the Arishok and refusing to let him take her, Hawke grinning at her and stammering about whiskey with rat droppings when they saw each other again after three years...

Hawke, Hawke, Hawke.

Isabela groaned and just barely resisted the compelling urge to repeatedly slam her head on the counter. Three years of sex and alcohol did nothing to all these bloody feelings she had for Hawke. Rather, to her horror, she realized the further she ran from Kirkwall and stories of its Champion, the more she missed Hawke. The more she missed Hawke, the stronger those feelings got.

It would have made sense, then, that coming back to Kirkwall would yield the opposite effect. Of course, she was counting on Hawke to be angry, as any sane, normal person should have been. Then she quickly remembered Hawke was neither of those things when the Champion of Kirkwall welcomed her back with a lame joke and a stupid grin.

That stupid, crooked grin Isabela found absolutely adorable.

Isabela was about to sigh dreamily - like the smitten fool she denied to be - when she was saved from further embarrassment by the same person who had caused it. Hawke strutted into the Hanged Man like she was... well, like she was the Champion of Kirkwall, and Maker, she certainly looked the part. That Champion armor certainly was made for Hawke.

"Surprise!" Hawke proudly exclaimed, presenting her with a gift and a smile that could light up all of Darktown- Andraste's flaming tits, did she really just think that?.

_Must stop reading Varric's sappy romance stories, _she told herself, then she looked at the talisman Hawke was holding out to her and she blinked.

She looked back up at Hawke, stared right into those blue eyes for the longest time, and when she realized Hawke was completely, innocently sincere about this - like a bloody mabari offering a half-eaten carcass as a gift - all she could do was gingerly reach for it.

"Err... I see," she murmured, unable to look away from those pretty blue eyes.

Hawke's smile turned into the insufferable grin that made Isabela feel weak in the knees.

"Sometimes people get things for other people they like," Hawke teased, that tit. "This is the part where you say thank you."

Isabela smiled, immediately relaxed by that delightful, playful tone in Hawke's voice.

"I know that, you goose," she half-heartedly chided, examining the talisman for a moment before holding it up for Hawke to see, giving the Champion one last chance to realize what the gift really was. "Don't you know what this is?"

Hawke gave a little shrug and just kept grinning. Isabela wanted to shake her head and laugh. It was amazing - and terribly endearing - how dense the Champion of Kirkwall could be when it came to certain things. If only the people of Kirkwall knew.

"It's a Rivaini fertility talisman," she said, making sure to heavily stress the last two words. "These petal-like shapes represent certain..." she trailed off, smirking now, "fleshy bits. And this protrusion is... well, just look!"

Hawke looked, then blinked, and then blushed so much her ears turned red.

"Ah. Oh, dear," the Champion blurted out, "and all this time I thought it was just a flower."

Isablea knew she should have stopped then, that she should giggle and tease Hawke and they would both have a good laugh about it, but instead she clutched the gift and kept talking.

"Rivaini women would wear these so that their wombs would be fruitful and their marriage is blessed with many children," she explained, then, realizing what she was about to say, she tried to walk away, but she couldn't take more than a few steps. "Or... when they wished for... love," she whispered, glad that she had at least managed to turn her back on Hawke.

Isabela closed her eyes and took a deep breath, telling herself that she shouldn't wait for Hawke to respond, that she wouldn't want to know what Hawke had to say, anyway, if that long pause was any indication.

But then, before she could take one more step, Hawke spoke.

"Who needs love?" the Champion purred in a way that Isabela had always liked. "I was just hoping for plain old lust."

Isabela rested a hand on her hip and laughed, hoping it didn't sound as shaky as the rest of her body felt.

"Lust?" she crooned, daring to look over her shoulder. "Lust, I can manage."

She headed to her room in full swagger, the Champion of Kirkwall on her heels.

* * *

><p>The sun was rising by the time they were done. Isabela was lounging on her bed, happily basking in the afterglow. She made a mental note to tell Sebastian what she had learned the past hours. Hawke was still very much a tiger in bed - all night, and every night still, surely - and Sebastian must be informed. He simply had to know this.<p>

She also learned that sleeping with Hawke turned all those annoying feelings into pleasant tingles all over her body. Maybe it was the sixth orgasm or that trick Hawke had done, but whatever it was, she certainly wouldn't mind having a steady fix of Champion if the offer was on the table.

Absently, she reached up and touched the Rivaini talisman around her neck, the only thing she was wearing. She couldn't remember when exactly she had put it on, but she couldn't really bring herself to care, not when there were other, more pleasant things to dwell on.

Hawke sat on the edge of the bed, distracted with the task of pulling on her gauntlets. Isabela rolled to her side and rubbed the smooth armor covering the Champion's back.

"As pretty as you look in that, sweet thing," she cooed, wishing she was touching Hawke's bare back instead, "it takes a dreadful amount of time to get you out of it. This thing has more latches and buckles than an Orlesian noblewoman has free time."

Hawke chuckled.

"It might have gone faster if you let me help."

Isabela dropped her hand and smirked.

"Don't think I didn't enjoy unwrapping you like a Feastday gift."

"Of course," Hawke drawled, playing along, "I'm sorry the thought even crossed my mind."

"Well, then," Isabela purred, "you'll just have to make it up to me next time, won't you?"

Hawke sighed dramatically.

"If I must, I must. Oh, these burdens I bear."

Isabela rolled her eyes and gently swatted Hawke's arm. Hawke laughed, then turned to face her and kissed her. She returned the kiss but didn't dare move her arms, afraid that she would pull Hawke closer, afraid that she'd ask the Champion to stay.

"Sleep well, Isabela," Hawke told her after the kiss ended.

"Thank you," Isabela suddenly said, surprising herself. "For the gift, I mean," she quickly followed up, thinking fondly of the ship in a bottle Hawke had given to her three years ago. "It was... thoughtful of you."

Hawke glanced at the talisman and blushed a little.

"I wish you just let me keep thinking it's a flower, then I could say it looks good on you without sounding filthy."

Isabela laughed and stroked Hawke's reddening face.

"And when have I ever been turned off by filthy?"

Hawke groaned.

"You're going to wear that just to embarrass me, aren't you?"

Isabela made a show of looking offended.

"I would never do that, not to you, Hawke," she said, struggling to keep a straight face. "But of course I'm going to wear it. You gave it to me as a gift, it would be rude not to wear it."

"You? Rude?" Hawke snorted, not looking as flustered anymore. "That'd be a first. We can't have that, can we? Maker knows what this perilous road will lead to, and I refuse to be responsible for turning you to a life of debauchery. What's next, stealing the Queen of Antiva?"

Isabela sighed and swatted at Hawke again.

"Go before I put that smart mouth of yours to better use."

Hawke chuckled. Snickered, more like, actually.

"Let's save that for next time. I'll see you around, Isabela."

"You, too, Hawke." Isabela said with a smile, ignoring that it faltered when Hawke looked away.

She watched as the Champion picked the greatsword from the floor and left the room. When the door shut, she pulled the blanket over her body and fell asleep within minutes.


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer:** Not making a profit, just having fun.

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

**A Rivaini Talisman  
>Part 2<br>**

**.  
><strong>

Later that afternoon - barely an hour after Isabela had woken up, well-rested and pleasantly sore in all the right places - Merrill pranced into the Hanged Man and Isabela quickly pulled her aside for a drink. She was in the middle of telling a most curious tale, one that involved two men, a nug and a bronto, when the elf suddenly gasped and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Oh, Kitten," Isabela cooed, picking up the ball of twine Merrill had dropped and handing it back. "I haven't even gotten to the good part yet. So, after they tied up the bronto and rolled it on its back-"

"It's not that, Isabela," Merrill interrupted her again, still blinking those wide, curious eyes at her. "It's not your story, I mean. Of course I would love to hear the rest of it. I know it's dirty and I just haven't noticed it yet..."

"Then what is it, Kitten?" Isabela asked with a giggle, saving the poor elf from further rambling.

Merrill smiled gratefully.

"I did think you looked different today," the elf started awkwardly, "but I was distracted by your story and I couldn't really figure out what it was until you touched it. You have a new necklace, Isabela! It's so strange actually seeing your neck. I used to think it'd be lighter - your neck, I mean - since you covered it up all the time, or that maybe you had a scar like that raider friend of yours, Martin. You have a very nice neck and the necklace looks nice on you! Oh, I'm sorry, have you had it for long? I really just don't notice things sometimes."

Isabela looked down and saw that she was, as Merrill said, touching the talisman Hawke had given her.

"Oh, this?" she said airily, smiling. "It was a gift, Merrill, from Hawke."

Merrill's face lit up.

"Let me see, let me see!" she squealed, lunging across the table to get a closer look at the talisman. "Ooooh, it's... it's..."

"Yes?" Isabela prompted, noticing how Merrill's expression went from excited to analytical.

"It's..." Merrill repeated and moved in even closer, then slowly began to gawk. "Isabela, it's so... vulgar! I can't believe Hawke would give away something like this!"

That made Isabela raise an eyebrow.

"You know what it is, Merrill?"

"By the Dread Wolf, of course! I may not know what it is - not exactly - but I certainly know what it looks like," Merrill huffed, clearly offended, and then settled back on her seat. "A baby halla would know! Bethany would know!"

"Hawke thought it was a flower," Isabela happily, happily pointed out.

At Merrill's horrified expression, Isabela finally couldn't hold it anymore and laughed. She laughed so much there were tears in her eyes.

"My goodness, why?" the elf howled. "Do flowers in Lothering look like that? How awful. Really, how could she not see that?"

"Must be the consequence of never having slept with a man," Isabela quipped between giggles.

"Ooh, Hawke has never...?" Merrill prodded, instantly switching back to being curious. "I didn't know that! Was I supposed to know that? Wait, was that a joke? You tell me so many things, Isabela, I can't keep track of them all. If it's true, then I suppose there's no way a baby halla would know, or Bethany, for that matter, but is Bethany still...? Do you think they're allowed to do that in the Circle? Anyway, it makes a little more sense now, why Hawke gave that to you. If she thought it was a flower, I mean."

It was Isabela's turn to be curious.

"Why's that, Merrill?"

"Oh, I'm sure I've told you before..." Merrill mumbled, blushing furiously. "Do you remember the time Hawke gave me a gift? That wooden halla made by Master Ilen? I suppose I was very awkward in showing my gratitude because she pouted and said she would just try giving me flowers next time. Although I think she was joking. She probably was. Hawke jokes a lot, doesn't she?"

"She does," Isabela agreed, though obviously distracted.

"Does that," Merrill stuttered, nervously twiddling with the ball of twine, "does that mean you and Hawke are... fine?"

The question, for reasons she really didn't want to think about, made Isabela think of the dream she was hoping to have forgotten by now. She had dreamt of being back out in the sea, sailing on a ship that would fire thunder back at the Qunari, commanding a crew of eager young sailors, and most of all - best of all - Hawke at her side, looking free and happy in a way she had never seen before.

"You're shaking your head," Merrill observed with a whine. "You and Hawke are not fine? But she gave a you a gift and you're wearing it. Doesn't that mean good things between humans? Oh, are you shaking your head because of me? Did I say something bad?"

Isabela reached over and patted Merrill's hand..

"No, Kitten," she assured the elf as she smiled geniunely. "And Hawke and I are just fine."

"Oh!" Merrill chirped, perking up. "You've finally made up with Hawke. I'm glad!"

Isabela smirked, not about to miss a cue.

"Yes, don't you worry, Kitten, we spent the whole night making up.""

Merrill broke into a huge grin.

"Ooh, now I know that's dirty. Tell me, tell me!"

"In a minute,," Isabela promised, "just let me order another drink first. I need something stronger."

* * *

><p>"Isabela, wake up."<p>

Someone was shaking her shoulder. She couldn't recognize the voice - only knew that whoever it was sounded tired, annoyed and so very attractive - and she was so comfortable, snug and warm that she immediately went back to sleep and returned to that pleasant dream she had been having.

"Maker, are you always such a heavy sleeper? How have you not gotten shanked in the Hanged Man yet?"

Had she been awake, Isabela would have laughed and helpfully pointed out that she had, in fact, been regularly shanked in the Hanged Man, just not with the sharp, pointy variety. Well, pointy, sure, but not sharp.

Isabela made a happy, satisfied sound and smiled in her sleep. She was having a different dream this time. There was no sea, no ship and no crew, but there was Hawke. She dreamt of a Kirkwall where the mages and the templars weren't at the brink of war, a Kirkwall where Bethany wasn't in the Circle.

"Isabela..."

The shaking started again, a little harder, a little rougher. Isabela giggled and scooted closer.

"Oh, Maker, you're enjoying this."

The hand retreated, much to Isabela's expressed disappointment, but she just as easily went back to her dream, where Bethany wasn't in the Circle. Bethany was living with Hawke, Bethany was living with them, just as it was supposed to be with fami-

Them? There was a 'them'? If there was a 'them', then there was an 'us' and a 'we', and for that to happen, she had to be with Hawke, and not just between the sheets. She had to be with Hawke and she had to be living with Hawke, which meant she had moved in, and the only reason she would move in with Hawke was because she in lo-

Isabela's eyes shot open.

"Finally," came a grumble, and Isabela recognized the voice now.

After a few more frantic blinks, she saw that Hawke was somewhat scowling at her, looking exhausted and grumpy, and Maker, why did Hawke have to look so pretty when she was angry? Just as Isabela was about to appreciate the rest of the Champion, she realized where they were- no, not 'they', there was no 'they'.

She realized where she was. She was in Hawke's mansion. She was in Hawke's bed.

"I probably fell asleep after," Hawke muttered, as if reading her mind, and Isabela did vaguely remember breaking into the Hawke Estate and ravaging a very surprised but very cooperative Champion. "Guess you did, too," Hawke went on, getting her attention back. "Woke up a few minutes ago and saw you were still here."

"And then..." Isabela mumbled, trying to put it all together, "you woke me up?"

Hawke nodded and grinned a little.

"I didn't want you to think I was forcing you to take advantage of my hospitality."

"Oh," was all Isabela could say, struggling to ignore the fluttering and then tightening in her chest. "That was... considerate of you."

"I can be a giver," Hawke said, chuckling. "You can stay if you want, just quit hogging the blanket or I'm going to kick you out of bed."

"No," Isabela blurted out before she could even think about it. "I mean, thank you, but no. I... I should go," she babbled, scrambling out of the blanket that she was, indeed, hogging, and then began to search for her clothes.

"All right," Hawke said easily, taking the blanket and turning away. "Be safe, Isabela," came the sleepy farewell that was followed by a yawn.

"Yes," Isabela agreed, not really knowing what she was saying as she was too focused on getting dressed. "You... have a good night, Hawke. A good sleep, I mean."

She cringed at what she just said. Maker, she was rambling like Merrill. With a string of curses and a corset that was on too tight, Isabela fled Hawke's room, tripping on her own boot on the way.

* * *

><p>The next day, Isabela avoided everyone from their group, even Merrill. She hadn't slept, she didn't want to, not with the risk of getting another of those dreams. She spent most of the day in the docks, admiring the ships and the sailors, even taking a ride on some of them.<p>

When night fell - particularly when she almost fell asleep on this poor sod who then burst into tears - she immediately went to the Blooming Rose and shoved a fat coin pouch in Madam Lusine's old, bony hands.

"The royal treatment," she growled at the woman. "From your best. All of them. All at once. Now."

Lusine raised a thin, gray eyebrow at her.

"All at once?" the woman repeated, scoffing. "You're aware that, with their services in high demand, it's unlikely they will be available at the same time. I'd have to break appointments with other clients. Rich, powerful, well-paying clients."

Isabela scoffed right back at the old woman.

"That coin should cover all your losses."

Lusine cackled and patted her cheek.

"I know, my dear. I was just teasing. Now, be off with you. My boys and girls have missed you this last three years."

Isabela made a rude gesture at Madam Lusine, which was done out of affection, of course, then strutted her way into a room with Adriano, Katriela and Serendipity in tow.

Many hours and many orgasms later, Isabela fell back on the bed which they had barely used - as opposed to the rest of the room and the furniture in it - and while she lay in a pile of heavy limbs and sweaty bodies, she closed her eyes, telling herself she was just going to rest for a minute or two.

That was, unfortunately, enough time for another of those cursed dreams to plague her.

This one, however, was strange. Her eyes were closed in the dream, and when she opened them, she saw a dirty ceiling that looked ready to fall on her. She must be in Anders' clinic, then. She could hear voices around her, all of them a blur of murmurs and buzzing except for one.

"You did great, Isabela!" Anders cheerfully said, and that was strange in and of itself, but stranger still was that he said this while he was between her legs.

Her first instinct was the punch him. She didn't remember giving him permission to be there. She didn't even remember wanting him to be there. He had become tragically less attractive with that gloomy, broody spirit inside him.

And how many times did she have to say she only liked to be on top?

However, when she tried to fist her right hand, she ended up gripping harder at someone else's hand. She blinked at it, noted the familiar, pale complexion and equally familiar long fingers now caught in her death grip.

Isabela looked up, then looked around. Hawke was at her side, grinning like a fool. Elsewhere, Bethany and Merrill were crowded around Aveline, squealing and giggling like little girls.

"Wha-" she tried to say, only be silenced by Hawke's lips and three little words that made her heart stop.

"I love you."

Bethany and Merrill stepped aside, and Isabela - who had rudely kept her eyes open during the kiss - could see Aveline smirking at her in a strange way. She realized a few seconds later that it was strange because it was a smile. Aveline was smiling at her.

What kind of nightmare was this?

"I must admit, whore, I'm impressed. Very impressed," Aveline said, sounding affectionate and proud, and Isabela had not been more afraid in her life. "I really thought your insides were far too toxic to hold any life, but you've proven me wrong. With Hawke's help, of course - a lot of it, I imagine, and with many, many tries - but I concede regardless."

"Big Girl, what are you going on ab-" Isabela started, then promptly lost her voice when she saw what Aveline was holding.

A baby. Aveline was holding a baby. A baby with blue eyes. Blue like Hawke's.

"That's your mother, little Hawke," Aveline sang to the child.

Just as Isabela was about to faint, Anders' grating, jolly voice startled her.

"All right, everyone, the other one is coming!"

With that, Isabela woke up with a start and a scream and shot off the bed like her ass was on fire. She ran out of the room, but not before smashing her forehead into Serendipity's nose - and breaking it, the nose, that is - and then for the second time in two nights, she was running. She ran right out of the building, cursing Kirkwall and its Champion, all the while wearing nothing but her daggers, her scarf and that bloody fertility talisman.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> That's it for Part 2. Next part's done but I'd like to finish Part 4 first before posting that one. Currently being sidetracked by the game itself, though. Anyway, thanks for the reviews! Cheers, Beyond Backup, and yay for more Marian Hawke love!

**PS:** Just realized anonymous reviews were set to disabled. Go, me.


	3. Part 3

**Disclaimer:** Not making a profit, just having fun.

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

**A Rivaini Talisman  
>Part 3<br>**

**.  
><strong>

Isabela was halfway to drinking herself into what she desperately, desperately hoped would be a peaceful, dreamless sleep when the none other than the Captain of the Guard herself barged into the Hanged Man and marched right up to her table.

"Whore," came the gloriously spiteful, wonderfully normal greeting from Aveline, and Isabela was so relieved that she almost stood up and kissed those broad, scowling lips.

"Big Girl! What brings you to the Hanged Man so early in the morning?" she happily greeted back instead, since apparently she wasn't even drunk enough to voluntarily introduce her face to the business end of Aveline's fist. "Miss me, didn't you?" she then quipped, because she never did pass up a chance to bond with her favorite Guard Captain.

Aveline twitched, nostrils flaring like an angry bronto about to charge.

"I'm here to do my job, whore."

Isabela laughed and took a swig.

"Skipping the foreplay, are we? All right, Big Girl, let's hear it."

"I received several reports concerning an incident last night," Aveline began, crossing her arms over her chest and looking more peeved by the second. "Thefts and complaints. Two stores robbed, and an unrest that originated from the Red Lantern District in Hightown and erupted in Lowtown. My guardsmen were able to contain it, but it still resulted in many arrests and a handful of casualties that required medical attention."

Isabela smiled pleasantly.

"And why is Kirkwall's Guard Captain telling me all this, hm?" she asked.

Aveline's eyes narrowed at her.

"According to witnesses, the disturbance was caused by a naked woman who beat up five men with a dagger, a mannequin and a hairpin. It was also the same woman who had robbed a dress shop in Hightown and a hat shop in Lowtown."

Isabela chuckled.

"These witnesses of yours sound like Varric. Seems like everyone wants to show how big their imaginations are these days."

Aveline looked even less amused, if such a thing was possible.

"The thief made off with over a dozen hats and a dress with ruffles. A lot of ruffles."

"Excellent taste," Isabela remarked, taking another swig.

Aveline sneered.

"You like ruffles."

"I do," Isabela eagerly admitted. "I also like a lot of other things, like that pretty headband of yours. I've always liked it. I've been thinking of getting one for myself. How do you think it would look on me?"

"Isabela," Aveline snapped, "You're wearing one of the hats."

Isabela kept on smiling.

"And what makes you think I didn't pay for this, Big Girl? If I can afford a night at the Rose, I can afford a hat."

"The price tag is still on it, whore."

Isabela blinked, thinking it was a joke, then she remembered she was talking to Aveline and took the hat off to see for herself.

"Will you look at that..." she drawled, still calm, "so it is."

Her reaction was obviously not what Aveline had been expecting, for the Captain of the Guard sighed and muttered about all the words, effort and time that had just been wasted on her.

"Not that it matters, Isabela, but..." Aveline paused, as if deciding against it, only to sigh again, "do you have anything to say for yourself before I throw you in a cell?"

Isabela ended up sighing as well.

"Big Girl, you know what it means when I beat up men instead of sleeping with them."

"I know," Aveline said, tone actually softening a bit. "What I don't know is why you were traipsing along the streets without any clothes. Even you're not that desperate."

Isabela shrugged and finished off her drink.

"Would it help if I return the hats and the dress?" she offered with very little conviction and enthusiasm.

"Return?" Aveline grunted. "Maker knows what, and who, you've done while wearing those things. That dress, especially."

"The Guard Captain humors me!" Isabela cheered, unable to keep from grinning. "Looks like I'm getting off easy."

"You don't need my help with that, whore. "

That was the moment the door to the Hanged Man swung open and the Champion of Kirkwall walked in. Hawke quickly looked around and, when she saw them, she stalked over to them and said something that made Isabela want to run away again.

"We need to talk."

Talk? Talking was bad. Talking was usually serious. Talking usually involved feelings, and it could lead to sex with feelings. She didn't want that. She hadn't done that in a long time and she distinctly remembered promising herself she wouldn't do it again. On the other hand, talking could end in tears, broken hearts and Hawke walking away and Maker, that scared her even more.

"Hawke," Aveline said, saving Isabela the trouble of coming up with something to say. "I'm sorry, but whatever it is, it will have to wait. Isabela is under arrest."

"What?" Hawke sputtered. "What is it this time?"

"You said you'd let me go if I gave them back, Big Girl," Isabela blurted out, then immediately regretted opening her mouth.

"I never said that, whore," Aveline hissed. "Even if you do, you're still going to the brig because that doesn't account for damages and the-"

"Aveline," Hawke cut in, whining just as expertly as that mabari of hers. "I have to talk to her. Please."

The Captain of the Guard frowned, the kind of expression she usually made when Hawke was making her choose between duty and friendship, but no sense of duty could withstand the power of the Champion's wounded puppy look.

"Fine, Hawke," Aveline grudgingly relented, "but only under the condition that you'll personally escort her to the barracks before the day is over."

Hawke nodded.

"All right. Let's go, Isabela."

"Go?" Both Isabela and Aveline asked. "Go where?"

Hawke blinked at them.

"To your room," the Champion said, as if it was the most obvious thing.

"Why?" Isabela and Aveline once again asked, at the same time, with the same tone.

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Are you two doing that on purpose?"

"What? No!" was the ineffective protest spoken in perfect unison.

"Never mind," Hawke sighed, looking a tad cross. "Let's just go, Isabela."

Whatever Isabela had to say went completely forgotten when Hawke took her hand and gave a little tug, coaxing her to get up, which she did. Aveline regarded the gesture with a deep frown and a murmur of disapproval.

"Don't forget-" Aveline started to say.

"- barracks, this afternoon," Hawke finished for her.

"Right. I'll see you then, Hawke," Aveline said, then bid farewell to Isabela with a gruff, "whore," and turned to exit the tavern.

* * *

><p>Isabela watched Aveline go until she felt another tug at her hand. Hawke nodded towards the rooms and began to lead her into the hall. She still didn't speak, focusing instead on trying not to think about the last time someone had held her hand like this and realizing she couldn't even remember.<p>

They nearly bumped into Varric as he was walking out of his room.

"Hawke, Rivani," he greeted them tiredly, but then his exhaustion seemed to magically go away when he noticed their linked hands and figured out where they were going. "Going right back to it already, Rivaini? Dear Maker, I'm this close to believing you're part desire demon."

"Already?" Hawke echoed, and it would have been cute if it didn't make Isabela's stomach twist in fear because, for some reason, she didn't want Hawke to know she had been with other people last night.

Whether or not Varric noticed her reaction, he only shook his head.

"Look," he sighed. "I know it's not any of my business- don't give me that look, Hawke! You're the Champion of Kirkwall, of course people are going to know about your private life. I'm there to make sure they don't get any details wrong. Anyway, I'm speaking as a friend right now."

He paused - for dramatic effect, no doubt - and then Isabela felt even more nervous when he looked at her.

"You've had Blondie check up on you since you paid a visit to the Rose, right, Rivaini? I probably should have told you sooner, but he's been telling me that he's getting twice as many patients who either go there or work there."

"Yes, Varric," she managed to say through gritted teeth. "I went straight to the clinic, just like always."

It was also the reason why she wasn't nearly as drunk as she wanted to be when Aveline came barging into the Hanged Man. Anders had the gall to pretend to be asleep for two hours - a blatant lie, because what sleeping mage could sustain a barrier? - before he finally let her in the clinic. She had to sit through a lecture about sex and hygiene, a tirade about the most recent plight of mages and a, "I'm only doing this so you don't infect Hawke," every now and then.

"Well," Varric chuckled, snapping her out of it. "I just wanted to make sure. I wouldn't want this story to end with the Champion of Kirkwall falling to the wiles of a pirate and her, ah, then unsavory treasure."

"I'll show you unsavory," Isabela hissed, stomping over the still chuckling dwarf and making an exaggerated show of bending over just to look him in the eye.

Varric held up his hands in peace, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning.

"Just having a little fun with you, Rivaini," he said, not even bothering to sound apologetic. "Speaking of fun, weren't you and Hawke about to have some of it in your room? You two go do that. I'll just be on my way."

Isabela tried to grab Varric before he was out of reach - by the chest hair, preferably - but she stopped when she realized that she was using the hand Hawke was supposed to holding. She slowly stood straight, biding her time, trying her best to prepare herself for that sodding talk.

Then she felt it. She didn't have to look to know. Hawke was staring at her, the kind of heated, hungry stare Hawke would give her before pushing her to the nearest surface and fucking her roughly.

She turned around, daring Hawke to lunge at her and rip her clothes off because that, she could handle, that was better than talking.

Hawke's gaze, which seemed to have been on her ass, very slowly moved up and stopped at her breasts, as if it was the first time Hawke had seen at her body. When Hawke had finally looked at her - when she could tell, just by looking at those honest, expressive blue eyes, how much Hawke wanted her - it was almost embarrassing how wet it made her.

Isabela drew closer, until she could hear Hawle's heavy, shaky breaths, until she could hear the throaty moan Hawke couldn't quite stifle.

"Tell me, Hawke," she murmured, lightly brushing her palms against that bulky, damnable breastplate. "Was all this just a ploy? Saving me from the vicious Guard Captain, just so you could have your wicked, wicked way with me?" she purred, sliding her hands up and then wrapping her arms around Hawke's neck and delighting in how that simple touch made the Champion shudder.

"I..." Hawke faltered, face flushed and eyes unfocused.

"I think," Isabela giggled, fully pressing their bodies together and beginning to pull Hawke down for a kiss, "this is the part where I say thank you."

The kiss lasted three, maybe four seconds - not that she was counting - before Hawke squeaked and hopped away from her like she had just contracted a new plague.

"N-no," Hawke stuttered, looking more pained about it than Isabela did. "I- no. We should talk first- we should talk. I really need to tell you something."

Isabela stared at Hawke for a moment, noted the glassy eyes, the dazed look and all the other signs that made it perfectly clear Hawke would rather be doing her instead. Whatever this was, it was important enough to get in the way of good sex.

"Fine," she sighed, then began to lead the way to her room.

There was a pause before she heard Hawke follow. She smiled, knowing it was because Hawke had been distracted by her ass and was most likely still staring. She put more sway in her hips, and the Champion almost tripped.

"Oh, and, sweet thing?" she called without looking back. "Be careful where you put that dagger of yours. Don't want you hurting yourself now."

Hawke almost tripped again.

"My... dagger? Ah, yes, my dagger. I'll... be more careful with it. Thank you, Isabela."

Isabela shook her head, wondering why Hawke was being so silly. If she didn't know any better, she would say Hawke was acting like a flailing virgin, and both of those things certainly weren't true.

"It's bigger than I remember," she remarked absently, trying to keep the conversation light, "is it new?"

They had reached her room by the time she got an answer, but not before Hawke almost walked into the door.

"You could say that," was what Hawke mumbled.


	4. Part 4

**Disclaimer:** Not making a profit, just having fun.

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>**

**A Rivaini Talisman  
>Part 4<br>**

**.  
><strong>

Isabela went straight to her bed and sat down, hoping that Hawke would abandon this ridiculous agenda and just join her for several bouts of meaningless sex. Unfortunately, Hawke, the stubborn fool, just stood there, still looking quite dashing in that Champion armor despite the tense posture and the pained expression.

"So, then," she prompted, pushing hair out of her face and muttering a curse when she remembered she left her new hat on the table. "What is so important that it couldn't wait until after you ravaged me in the hall?"

The Champion, who had been in the middle of putting away her sword, lost her grip on the weapon and winced when it hit the floor.

"I'm not really sure how to say this," Hawke said after a successful attempt at setting aside that massive weapon. "It could be far-fetched, but... that talisman I gave you..."

Isabela automatically touched the talisman Hawke had just spoken about. Balls, this was bad. Did Hawke finally catch on what she really meant that day? What did she mean, anyway?

This was all her fault. She shouldn't have told Hawke about fruitful wombs, marriages and love.

"Hm? Yes? What about it?" she said, a little too soon, a little too fast. "Is Merrill teasing you about the flower thing again?"

Hawke pouted a little.

"She gave me a six-hundred-paged book about flowers yesterday. With pictures, she said. Even Fenris is making fun of me. Fenris! I think he even tried to grin, but gave up halfway."

Isabela laughed, remembering a time when she would been willing to try a lot of things with Fenris, but it soon turned into a nervous giggle when Hawke sat beside her.

"But, no, it's not that. Isabela, do you..." Hawke faltered, and Isabela was already cringing. "Do you think that talisman could be magic?"

Isabela blinked.

"What?"

"The talisman," Hawke repeated, even pointing at it, "do you think it has magic?"

"Oh, Maker," Isabela groaned, covering her face with her palm. "You're not about to quote that dreadful poem, are you? The one about the power of love being stronger than magic? There's a reason we found that in an old boot, Hawke, and it was a very smelly boot, if you recall."

Hawke stared at her as if she had lost her mind, which was three years too late as far Isabela was concerned.

"Poetry, love... what, Isabela? That's not what I meant," the Champion growled, mimicking Isabela's earlier actions by putting her palm to her face. "All right," she sighed, "let's try this again. Have you experienced anything... strange since I gave you that talisman?"

"Oh," Isabela mumbled. "Is that what you meant all along?" With a shaky laugh, she removed the talisman and looked at it closely. "I don't know much about it, really. I just know that Rivaini seers handed this out to women. The only seer I knew was my mother, and she was only pretending to be one. She didn't exactly let me stick around long enough to fin-" she gasped, as it all finally came together. "Oh, balls. That's it, isn't it?"

"What's it?" Hawke echoed, then gasped like she had and gave her a wide-eyed look. "You have one, too?"

"One?" Isabela snorted. "More like three, Hawke. Maybe another if I had slept last night."

Hawke's eyes grew wider, then those wide eyes were promptly turned to her crotch.

"You... you get one every night?"

Isabela nodded, trying not to let the blatant staring bother her.

"Yes. Why? Don't you?"

"I have one," Hawke mumbled, scooting closer to her and still not-so-discreetly glancing between her legs. "So, it really is the talisman?"

"It must be," Isabela said, sighing and placing the talisman on the table. "What a relief. Here I thought I was having all those dreams because I'm in love with you."

_Oh._

She said that out loud.

_Oh, balls._

Hawke, who had been once again enchanted by her crotch - Isabela was this close to making a terrible joke about buried treasure - suddenly looked up and stared at her instead. They stayed quiet and awkward for a minute until Hawke finally spoke.

"You... you love me?"

Before Isabela could come up with a lie or an excuse neither of them would believe or before Hawke's grin turned crooked, Hawke froze and looked at her strangely.

"Wait. Dreams? Is that what you've been getting?"

Isabela raised an eyebrow. She certainly wasn't expecting Hawke to focus on that part.

"Is that all? Just dreams?" Hawke asked, briefly glancing down.

"Yes," Isabela hissed, getting irritated. "Yes, I've been having dreams. Why? And why do you keep looking between-"

"You don't have three cocks?"

"-my legs and- what? No!" she shrieked, unable to believe that Hawke seemed to be completely serious about it. "Is that why you've been- why would you even- do I look like I have three cocks? Here, you tell me," she said, grabbing Hawke's wrist. "Get a good feel for yourself and tell me if you-" she stopped, suddenly remembering what Hawke said earlier. "You... you have a cock. You have a cock! You said you have a cock!"

Hawke let out an uneasy laugh.

"Yes, I did say that."

Isabela's gaze immediately dropped. She released Hawke's wrist and placed her hand on Hawke's knee. She couldn't see much, damn that armor.

"And you think the talisman did this?" she said, making small talk while she trailed her hand further up Hawke's thigh.

"It wasn't my first guess," Hawke said, grinning. "Blood mages and demons came to mind, of course. I even thought that it was a very, very late side effect from being exposed to that lyrium idol."

"We could have Merrill check the talisman," Isabela suggested. "Or Anders, I suppose."

"We could..." Hawke murmured, more interested in Isabela's hand, which inched higher and higher until those curious fingers brushed against something hard that wasn't plate or chainmail.

"That wasn't your dagger I felt against my thigh earlier," Isabela realized, a little disappointed with herself since she always believed she would know a stiff cock when she felt it, even through a slab of concrete.

Hawke laughed again, sounding more comfortable now.

"And to think, you've held hundreds in your hands."

Isabela rolled her eyes.

"Show me," she urged, scooting closer until their knees bumped.

Hawke smiled and offered her a kind reminder.

"I thought we were going to see Merrill."

Isablea, however, was already undoing the Champion's belt.

"This is a far more pressing matter, sweet thing," she reasoned, and she believed it, truly.

Hawke's smile turned into that crooked grin she adored.

"Is it, now?"

Isabela tossed the belt over her shoulder.

"Yes, of course," she played along, pushing aside the flap of chainmail and grazing her fingertips against the apparently obvious bulge between the Champion's legs, "and from what I can tell, it's a very hard, pressing matter."

Hawke was reduced to giggles.

"You are horrible."

"You love it," Isabela teased as she made quick work of the front of Hawke's pants and eagerly palmed the hard cock beneath. "What's this?" she gasped, feigning shock. "No skivvies? My, what a naughty girl."

"I couldn't," Hawke wheezed, twitching in her grip, "I couldn't find anything that fit-"

"Oh, sweet thing," Isabela interrupted, giving the Champion a gentle squeeze, "you just didn't look in the right places. Lucky for you, I'm a helper."

Hawke's groan was a mix of exasperation and arousal.

"Maker, Isabela, you're incorrigible."

Laughing, Isabela touched Hawke's shoulder with her free hand and gave a little push. Hawke, understanding the gesture, leaned back a little.

* * *

><p>Many, many hours later, Isabela was lying on top of Hawke, both of them panting, sweaty and sated, at least for the moment. Hawke was the first one to speak again.<p>

"Maker, what time is it?"

Isabela smiled lazily.

"Have somewhere to be?"

"Yes," Hawke chuckled, "and so do you. I did tell Aveline I was going to take you to the barracks."

Isabela feigned shock.

"Is that how it is? You fuck a girl raw and then you have her thrown in the brig?"

Hawke grinned and kissed her.

"That, and I have to tell Aveline she was wrong about your loose lips."

"You goose," Isabela murmured fondly.

Hawke smiled, and for some reason, Isabela felt the urge to explain why she had been at the Rose the night before and why she had slept with so many other people. She would, she might, if Hawke asked.

"I'll talk to Aveline, I promise," Hawke said, starting to sit up. "I'm hungry. Do you want to find something to eat before we see Merrill? Or maybe we could go to Merrill first, take her along for lunch."

"All rigjht," Isabela replied awkwardly, rolling away to let Hawke move. "I found some new places here in Lowtown."

Hawke nodded and scooted over to the edge of the bed. Isabela did the same thing, and she was about to stand up, knowing Hawke letting her bathe first.

"Isabela."

She froze at the serious tone and stiffly turned to Hawke, who, to her horror, was holding the fertility talisman.

Shit.

Hawke remembered what she had said about being in love. Of course, Hawke remembered. It wasn't like Isabela had fucked the memory out of both of them.

Balls, what would she say?

"You think..." Hawke started, fiddling with the talisman and making Isabela's heart race because this was exciting and romantic, sort of, and- no, this was frightening, and bad, very bad.

"Do you think I'll go back to normal if I put on the talisman?"

Oh.

Oh.

_What?_

Ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest - was that her heart falling to the pit of her stomach? It couldn't be - Isabela considered the question and a rather unpleasant thought came to mind.

"It could do that," she said, "or I could end up with the cock."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at her

"You don't sound happy about that."

She scoffed.

"And why would I be? Me having a cock means no sex with you!"

"I would do it," Hawke mumbled, "if it was you."

Isabela, unprepared for an answer like that, pretended she didn't hear anything.

"Besides," she sighed, "we don't know how it works. What if you get three cocks? What then?"

Hawke's eyes widened in horror.

"Maker, no."

"Yes."

"What will we do with the third one? We can't just leave it there while we- unless you could... could you?"

Isabela grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to a pillow, and promptly smacked a laughing Hawke in the face.

* * *

><p>Many, many hours later, Isabela was lying on top of Hawke, both of them panting, sweaty and sated, at least for the moment. Hawke was the first one to speak again.<p>

"Maker, what time is it?"

Isabela smiled lazily.

"Have somewhere to be?"

"Yes," Hawke chuckled, "and so do you. I did tell Aveline I was going to take you to the barracks."

Isabela feigned shock.

"Is that how it is? You fuck a girl raw and then you have her thrown in the brig?"

Hawke grinned and kissed her.

"That, and I have to tell Aveline she was wrong about your loose lips."

"You goose," Isabela murmured fondly.

Hawke smiled, and for some reason, Isabela felt the urge to explain why she had been at the Rose the night before and why she had slept with so many other people. She would, she might, if Hawke asked.

"I'll talk to Aveline, I promise," Hawke said, starting to sit up. "I'm hungry. Do you want to find something to eat before we see Merrill? Or maybe we could go to Merrill first, take her along for lunch."

"All right," Isabela replied awkwardly, rolling away to let Hawke move. "I found some new places here in Lowtown."

Hawke nodded and scooted over to the edge of the bed. Isabela did the same thing, and she was about to stand up, knowing Hawke letting her bathe first.

"Isabela."

She froze at the serious tone and stiffly turned to Hawke, who, to her horror, was holding the fertility talisman.

Shit.

Hawke remembered what she had said about being in love. Of course, Hawke remembered. It wasn't like Isabela had fucked the memory out of both of them.

Balls, what would she say?

"You think..." Hawke started, fiddling with the talisman and making Isabela's heart race because this was exciting and romantic, sort of, and- no, this was frightening, and bad, very bad.

"Do you think I'll go back to normal if I put on the talisman?"

Oh.

Oh.

_What?_

Ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest - was that her heart falling to the pit of her stomach? It couldn't be - Isabela considered the question and a rather unpleasant thought came to mind.

"It could do that," she said, "or I could end up with the cock."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at her

"You don't sound happy about that."

She scoffed.

"And why would I be? Me having a cock means no sex with you!"

"I would do it," Hawke mumbled, "if it was you."

Isabela, unprepared for an answer like that, pretended she didn't hear anything.

"Besides," she sighed, "we don't know how it works. What if you get three cocks? What then?"

Hawke's eyes widened in horror.

"Maker, no."

"Yes."

"What will we do with the third one? We can't just leave it there while we- unless you could... could you?"

Isabela grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to a pillow, and promptly smacked a laughing Hawke in the face.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Big chunk went bye-bye in a futile attempt to save this from being eaten.


End file.
